Struggle For Life

by TheCatOfNight

It's the 75th Hunger Games. To represent the hope that the rebels once had, 2 tributes can win. Kira is fighting to save her brother. Can she win these Games? (Rated T for Hunger Games violence, and some disturbing content.)

1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

"And so, for our third Quarter Quell, 2 tributes can come home.

With that, the power goes off again. I slump back into the floral dusty cushions that we call a couch. It's still fairly light out, but we had all become accustomed to the glow of the television. Now we're back in the dark.

We're all silent for a few moments. Finally, my brother let's out a quiet sigh and makes his way up the creaky stairs. He disappears into his room. The door slams. Rodney's been acting like this for the past couple of weeks. It's his first year, and his name was put in 8 times. He insisted on it, but the odds are less in his favour now, and he knows it.

I close my eyes and take in the musty scent of the couch. Our living room is pretty depressing. Grey walls, a faded pile of cushions for a couch. A TV that never comes on unless one of us is sick or there's an important announcement. Like the Hunger Games.

Eventually, my mother rises to go make dinner. My father gets ready to leave for his night shift. I sit there, the word echoing in my head. Hope. Hope for the rebels that they could win. Hope for the tributes, who have a larger chance of victory. Perhaps I should go pay my brother a visit.

The wooden stairs groan beneath my weight. I don't weigh much though, for a 13-year-old. You could place a feather on these stairs though, and they would still creak. I have the constant fear that the boards will give out and crash under my weight. They can handle my father though. They should tolerate my weight.

I knock once. Rodney's door opens. I step inside to see Rod staring out of his window. I sigh, and he speak without turning around.

"I'm going to get reaped. You know that right?"

I frown. "Why are you acting like this?" I ask. I'm becoming rather worried about his constant state of depression.

"Why do you care?" he growls. Brown eyes lock into mine, piercing through me. "We live in a sad, friggin' state. Reduced to what? Killing each other for sport! I HATE THIS-" That's when I clamp my hand over his mouth. "Quiet." I mutter. I fear that our parents will hear, or worse.

Rodney takes my hand of his mouth. He lets out a long sigh. "I just don't care anymore Kira." He shuts hi eyes. "I just don't care."

He walks out of the room, head down. Unfortunately for me, that was only the beginning.